


Kindling

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Angst, M/M, challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 06:56:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/795158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How long did Blair think he could really keep Jim away?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kindling

## Kindling

by Lily

Author's website:  <http://www.geocities.com/lilyisawake/index.html>

Not mine. Actually, even *more* not mine than usual. 

My ending to Green Woman's wonderfully sad story "Treeline." Thanks, GreenWoman for letting us play!

This story is a sequel to: TREELINE 

* * *

I held the letter in my hand as I watched Simon's taillights disappear into the forest. Crumpled tactile proof held tightly, proof that someone _did_ care about me. Think about me. It didn't make me feel good or bad, just...confused, because it contrasted so starkly against my belief that no one cared at all. The wind was starting to replace the warmth of my fire, so I shut the door against it. Against Everyone. 

I hated it whenever Simon came out, because now, just like all the other times, I stood there trembling; afraid. Didn't they understand, any of them? That I'm not refusing them the comfort that they wanted so badly, not denying them the exoneration that they needed- I just didn't _have_ it. 

They wanted, and I wasn't strong enough to give. 

If I let them come to me...if I let _Jim_ come to me, it would undoubtedly require something of me and the truth is that nothing exists in me anymore that's strong enough to give anyone anything that they need. Much less Jim, who needs more than anyone. 

Simon always brings me books, for which I'm grateful. He knows that I can't afford them- not the kind that I'm interested in, so he brings them as some sort of offering. If I were truly honest with myself, I'd probably admit that Jim is the one who picks them out, but being honest with myself still hurts too much, so I don't. 

He'd placed the newest one on the table, discreetly because he doesn't want to make a big deal of it. I picked it up and paged through it, still shivering from the cold. The storm was going full force now. I wouldn't have to go anywhere or see anyone for a few days, which relieved me. I always felt a little shaky after seeing Simon. And if I read the letter from Jim... 

Just to be safe, I tossed it in the fire and fought tears while watching it blaze into ashes. I stood there a long time, torturing myself by imagining all the things that the letter could've said. My imagination ran the gamut from "I'm sorry," all the way to "I'm getting married, just thought you should know," to "You ruined my life, Sandburg." I did this to myself until I heard something outside. Oh shit. I prayed that it wasn't Simon, who'd somehow not made it out in time. 

I carefully opened the door against the gust that attempted to blow it off the hinges, and promptly tried to shut it again. But the force of the wind coupled with the pushing hand of my worst nightmare was too much, which left me standing in my doorway face to face with that nightmare. 

Snow had accumulated on Jim's coat, and his nose and ears were bright red with cold. I wanted to run, but there was nowhere to hide. He was so big and healthy, solid and beautiful that I felt dishearteningly self-conscious. He stared at me like a star-struck fan, then shivered and asked, "Can I come in?" 

"No." My chest hurt, it felt like a heart attack only I knew it wasn't because by now I was familiar with the twisting blade of heartache. 

"I'm...cold." And he was, I could see the tremors running through him. He'd been out there for a while. 

"Go home, Jim." 

"I can't. The road's out." 

Then I knew why he'd been out in the cold for so long. He'd intentionally waited until the road had become impassible. But desperation made me say, "Yeah, right. I think I'll just go check for myself." I reached for my coat. 

"Chief, I _promise_ the road is _out_. Just...take my word for it okay?" 

"Oh yeah, that's right. _Your_ word is the one that means something." I couldn't help it, the bitterness snuck up and just got me sometimes. My scars itched and I wanted to scratch them but not in front of Jim, never in front of him. 

"Blair." His sudden pain matched my own, and I felt strangely satisfied by that. But he was shaking and I couldn't stop myself from letting him in and pulling a chair over to the fire. It was for him; I stayed across the room, by the wall. 

I stopped his "Did you read my-" with a harsh, 

"-No." _It's keeping you warm, Jim._ I thought bitterly. _Kindling. What do you think of that?_

I watched him take off his coat. He'd been spending a lot of time in the gym since I'd been gone, I noted, and then kicked myself for noticing. So what? Where had that strength been when I'd needed it most? 

"I...do you want some coffee?" How pathetic my life seemed now, the cabin which I normally found comfortable and cozy seemed shabby with him inside. Just like the rest of my life--so different than the life I'd had when he'd taken me as a partner. _That_ Blair had been a teacher, student, and friend, all with leftover time to help Jim with policework. Confidence and dignity, those were what the big chasm between the past and present consisted of. 

"Thanks." 

I shouldn't have asked, because when I asked about the coffee, he rose and approached me. I refused to flinch away the way that my body was trained to do. And when I caught his familiar scent, I refused to fall into his arms the way that my mind was _still_ trained to do. _Jim doesn't equal safety anymore, stupid_ I told myself . 

"It doesn't matter. I have it memorized." He announced loudly, too loudly. My hand sloshed some coffee onto the counter at the sudden sound. 

"What the hell are you talking about?" 

"The letter," he said softly, so softly and I pulled my eyes away from his face. "It says Dear Blair. I'm sorry, so sorry about everything that's happened and for my part in it. I never got to tell you some things and this letter is my only chance. One thing that I wanted you to know is that the day that--the day that Simon found you-" 

I put my arms behind my back, knowing where he would be looking. 

"The reason that Simon was there was because I'd gone to see you that day. I went to..." his head turned away from me and I had to strain to hear him. "...to bust you out." He snorted while I reeled with shock. "Pretty stupid, huh? Simon caught me just outside Cellblock F, and Rafe took me outside. In cuffs. I took some swings at him, got a couple good ones, too, I was so-" he choked off, then started again smoothly. "I was so close, and wanted it so bad. That was when Simon found you." 

The fire crackled and the wind howled, but Jim and I stood in my tiny kitchen, staring at the floor. I could tell that he was about to cry, I could _feel_ it, had heard it in his voice and that terrified me. He hadn't even cried when they'd taken me away, not when he'd visited me in the hospital, not when I'd come to the loft to get the rest of my stuff. 

"Why is it stupid?" I couldn't believe my absence of anger, for the first time in months, nothing was eating me up inside. I went to the couch, self-conscious of my limp but needing to sit. 

He followed, but surprised me by settling on the rug by my feet like a pet. I rubbed my thighs nervously. _Jim, Jim, Jim's here._ It was so much, so fast. 

"Stupid because why would I have thought you'd come with me? This is the first time you've spoken to me since the Begelman trial, and it's only because you're too good a person to send someone out to freeze in the woods." He paused, then moved frighteningly closer to me. "But if you want to know why _I'm_ stupid, there are so many more reasons." He changed directions suddenly, catching me unguarded. 

"Blair, please let me- help you. I need you so much, I _love_ you and if you need to be out here then let me be out here with you. If you're going to do this again-" he pulled my arm with one hand and pushed up my sleeve with the other, exposing me, exposing my weakness. 

"Jim, don't!" I yelled, struggling. 

"No!" He held even more tightly. "If you're going to do this again, then let me do it with you. If you need to move to Africa, Borneo, Peru, let me go with you. Whatever it takes, just _let_ me." 

My strength left me, rushing from my body in a great detoxification. Everything I'd been afraid of.... _wasn't_. Jim hadn't left me there to rot in prison. Jim had cared. Jim was hurting without me. Jim didn't harbor any anger toward me. I'd convinced myself that he would have hidden resentments and deep seeded anger, but no. None. 

The pressure on my arm lessened and then disappeared, replaced by a different pressure on my thigh. Jim's strong arms went around my waist and his head rested so needily on my thigh. 

The shaking started in my chest and spread outward. It felt as though nothing could stop it, I would just shake apart right there and there would be nothing left of Blair Sandburg except a gentle, lost friend sitting on his floor. It had been...so long since someone had held me like this, with loving intent, it was too potent for me and not fair at all. I wanted to fight, wanted to be that stony silent, sullen hardass that I'd pretended to be in prison. 

"I'm not the same p-person anymore, Jim. I don't have respect, pride, money, friends, a career...don't you get it? I don't have anything to offer you." 

"You have those things." His breath was hot against my leg, and I shivered, feeling the vibrations of his voice. "You don't know how much you have, but I'm going to show you." The first kind caresses in almost a year; his hands up and down my sides melted my defenses against my will. 

"Jim..." His hair felt so soft and his response to my light touch was to rub against me like a big cat. Tears stung my eyes and filled my throat. "He broke my leg...so that I couldn't run away." 

He only held me tighter. "I know. And now he has two broken legs." 

I choked out a joyless laugh. "What else?" I should have known- Sentinels were the avenging type, especially where their guides were concerned. 

"He..." he stopped, uncertain, then finally settled on- "An eye for an eye, Chief." 

"Wow." Was I sick for feeling _good_ about this? As sick as that bastard who'd tortured me every day I'd spent in prison? "He's not gonna be sitting down for a long time." 

"Blair-" He lurched forward so that his head was buried in my stomach. Suddenly, I knew. Knew that I would never be separated from Jim again. It just wasn't meant to be that way, not with the depth of my love for him, and now I could finally admit what I had doubted 

  * the strength of his love for me. 



"I want things to be normal," I moaned, making another first-time admission, and he rose onto his knees, kissing away my tears, those damned tears. "I want us to drink b-beer and watch TV. I want people to look at-t me like they used to." 

"I do," he said fiercely with steady hands holding my face. "I look at you like that." 

And I peered carefully through blurred vision into the face of the man who was still here- and saw that I _did_ recognize that look from years of togetherness, only now it had a tenderness that I'd always wished for. My heart leapt and he heard it. 

"I love you," he whispered against my cheek. "Let me stay." 

The flames were dying but the room remained warm, and as I drifted off without answering Jim, I thought that perhaps it was the letter, fortified somehow with love. 

* * *

EPILOGUE- Two weeks later 

I always like waking up with Jim's arms around me, but today it's different. It feels better than usual because of what Jim told me last night. I understand why he waited to tell me; it would've been too much to process at once. We haven't even been naked together yet even though I'm sure we're moving in that direction. 

It's hard for me to fathom the fact that I'm not public enemy number one anymore, but Jim says that it's true. Simon, too. 

He told me last night while I held him the way I'd always wanted to. Before he came up to the cabin, he'd collaborated with the University and gone public with his Sentinel abilities. They say I'm a hero, now, a martyr who selflessly protected his partner. Does it make everything better? No, but it helps. The hope of living a normal life in Cascade again is something I'd given up on. 

I'm not ready yet- _we're_ not ready yet, to face the world, but we'll stay here together, until we are. 

* * *

End Kindling by Lily: lily2332@mindspring.com

Author and story notes above.

  
Disclaimer: _The Sentinel_ is owned etc. by Pet Fly, Inc. These pages and the stories on them are not meant to infringe on, nor are they endorsed by, Pet Fly, Inc. and Paramount. 


End file.
